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There's nae sorrow there, Jean,
In the land o' the leal.
Ye were aye leal and true, Jean,
To the land o' the leal.
To the land o' the leal !
Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean,
To the land o' the leal.
158. ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF
That crown the wat’ry glade,
Her Henry's holy shade ;
His silver-winding way:
Ah happy hills ! ah pleasing shade!
Ah fields beloved in vain !
A stranger yet to pain !
To breathe a second spring.
Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen
Full many a sprightly race
The paths of pleasure trace;
Or urge the flying ball ?
While some on earnest business bent
Their murmuring labours ply 'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint
To sweeten liberty :
And snatch a fearful joy.
Gay Hope is theirs by fancy fed,
Less pleasing when possest; The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast:
Theirs buxom Health, of rosy hue,
That fly th' approach of morn.
Alas! regardless of their doom
The little victims play!
Nor care beyond to-day :
Ah, tell them they are men !
These shall the fury Passions tear,
The vultures of the mind, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,
And Shame that skulks behind ; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy with rankling tooth That inly gnaws the secret heart, And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim-visaged comfortless Despair,
And Sorrow's piercing dart.
Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
Then whirl the wretch from high To bitter Scorn a sacrifice
And grinning Infamy. The stings of Falsehood those shall try, And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye,
That mocks the tear it forced to flow v;
Amid severest woe.
Lo, in the Vale of Years beneath
A griesly troop are seen,
More hideous than their Queen :
And slow-consuming Age.
Condeinn'd alike to groan;
Th' unfeeling for his own.
'Tis folly to be wise.-T. GRAY.
159. HYMN TO ADVERSITY. Daughter of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and torturing hour
The bad affright, afflict the best! Bound in thy adamantine chain
The proud are taught to taste of pain, And purple tyrants vainly groan With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. When first thy Sire to send on earth
Virtue, his darling child, design'd, To thee he gave the heavenly birth
And bade to form her infant mind. Stern rugged Nurse! thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore:
What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, And from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe,
Scared at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,
And leave us leisure to be good.
By vain Prosperity received
Wisdom in sable garb array'd
Immersed in rapturous thought profound.
With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
With Justice, to herself severe,
Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head,
Dread Goddess, lay thy chastening hand! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Not circled with the vengeful band
With screaming Horror's funeral cry,